In the Line of Duty
by Star-Gazer-Lilium
Summary: Time Squad has its hardest mission, testing their faith as a team-and a family.
1. Lesuirely Memories

Space signifies emptiness. Emptiness makes one think of sad places, where you were trapped as a child, and only your loving mother could coax you out of. Emptiness means death to all, but space.. Space means dreams, means discovery, means mystery for everyone.  
  
Yet in the emptiness of space, there is something. Not in our time, perhaps. Far in the future, maybe. I see it. Beyond our concept of thought, beyond the end of George W. Bush, there is something in space. A giant can, capable of the holding of hundreds, floats idly in its dominance over the vacuum of the outer realm. And lo! There are creatures surviving in it. Let us proceed into the kingdom of man, far in the future, where the past can still breathe...  
A large man, made from muscle and sinew, stubble over his chin and red goggles over his eyes, bound in a spandex-like suit, sat on a metallic bench, the bland silver of his surroundings melting away as he reminisced over times before his dreams and nightmares became reality, when grassy plains was his present, not the past. When he still looked at his Pa as the best shooter he had ever seen. Before love, before hate, before everything, he seemed to him now. He quietly chuckled as the happy days washed over him. "Yup, those were indeed the days."  
As he lay far from reality, to a place where happiness could still exist, it seems one of his phantom childhood friends appeared. Its wispy and cloudy form couldn't hide the small shock of orange-brown hair peeking out from massive horn-rimmed glasses that dipped down into a freckled face, and a pushed-up nose that teetered above a broad smile, looming over a small red shirt and plain shorts. The small ghost seemed to be calling him, but his voice was far-off as was a thin wail, slowly piercing his fantasies, until reality jumped at him and said, 'Hiya, Tuddrussel!'  
The older man grunted, then looked far below him to gaze upon an impish-looking boy, who was in turn looking up at him with admiration. A thin wailing from Tuddrussel's fantasies had not left his ears, as a boxed light was flashing with red and blue, groaning with its irritability. 'Oh, hey, Otto. Just dreamin' about the old West. Back in those days, y' know?'  
Otto Osworth (as that was the boy's name) smiled a bit to feign interest, and nodded over to the light. 'We have an assignment here, Tuddrussel.'  
He grunted again, rising slowly from the wall, and walking through the labyrinth of the tin flier. As the two were making their way to the control room, the cold scene faded away, and this was left in Otto's mind.  
A field of soft, golden grass and merry sunlight, mingling with the saphhire crown of the trees, swings into view. A small family of three crowd around the area.  
A child of one year and six months, with a mess of brushy orange hair, slowly crawled to his feet, and stumbled toward the two larger folk ahead of him, one female with strawberry-blonde hair and a gentle voice coaxing, 'Come on, Otto. You can do it!'  
As he strode, with ever relutance, to their loving arms, the woman stared laughing and crying at the same time, and the boy's father scooped up the child in his long arms, to his tall lanky frame, for a hug. 'I knew you could do it! Aw, that's my boy!'  
The scene slowly crawls away, with all the three hugging.  
As they made their way to the control room, no one noticed that Otto was weeping. 


	2. A Shadow Killer

The two finally reached the control room, just as Otto wiped his tears, and there stood a monster. Well, to some, it was a monster. Some thought it a servant to its own will. To some, he was a friend, and a mentor. Almost, dare say it, a parent. To himself, he was naught, just once a mighty ambassador reduced to a link in a chain of never-ending idiocy. His name used to be the Lawrence 3000, but he was reduced to a mere 'Larry' or 'Rust-butt', or worse. He controlled the computer, his brother, and through their metallic exterior, they shared a bond that was truer than the oil coursing through their veins.  
The humans gazed upon the robot, his bored eyes scanning through seas of historical inaccuracies, until the search slowed and a picture of an exotic-looking woman with raven-dark hair down to her chin appeared, and the name and date of 'Zeleda Verado: 1996' flashed with it. Tuddrussel's tongue fell out of his head, his eyes popping into little hearts. 'Wow!'  
Rolling his eyes, Larry tapped his metallic chin. 'Well, I've never heard of such a name before. I would remember something like that.'  
Otto's eyebrows slowly rose. 'I've never heard it either. How weird.' He trotted over to his 'The 20th Century: Ancient Times.' He flitted through the index, and, sure enough, Zeleda Verado was in the proper placement of 1996. 'She was a New Yorker.who committed murder!' He exclaimed, a small warning bell ringing in his head.  
Tuddrussel hit his head. 'Great! I was just looking forward to helping out some physco off some people! Good thing I'm bringing my phaser.' He looked at Otto meaningly, with a hint of concern in his eyes.  
'Don't worry, Tuddrussel. I'll be fine.' Otto walked up to the transporter with his two 'parents, and with a blinding flash of light, they were off, to dangers they didn't foresee. 


	3. Nightmare Drawings

Author's note: Sorry my other chapters are so short, but they work! Right? Crickets. Aww, shucks. Oh, well. I beg thee without a trace of dignity to post all reviews, even though I'll keep going. I will survive. Crickets. Corny, I know. Let's go with chapter 3, shall we? The insanely long wait is over for my 2 count 'em, 2! Fans!  
  
The apartment seemed to run with a light spark, then flashed brightly for a second as the three heroes appeared, Otto gasping for breath, as the tunnel of years seemed to wind him, which had never happened before. But, unfortunately, all attention to him was lost as the travelers looked upon the sight that beheld them.  
The room was obviously a suite, with a staircase just glimpsed from the slightly ajar door. The beige and gold tones flirted with each other, blending themselves on the wall and on the gold-trimmed wooden furniture, which only consisted of a mammoth desk, filled to be brim with aged, yellowed papers.  
Tuddrussel, who was growling and holding his phaser as a Rottwiler would bare his teeth, took a look around as his muscles slowly relaxed. "Uh, where is the guy?"  
Larry rolled his eyes as he said, "Well, we can look around a bit at least, if our person isn't here. Starting with that giant desk."  
The three started pulling out papers with no organization, and ran through them. Most seemed to be odd conceptual drawings, with few of them finished. All of them had this serpentine look to them, as well as all of them having a large and aggressive "ZV."  
Tuddrussel had only looked through a minute's worth of drawings before feeling a large chill go down his spine. Their eyes were oddly narrowed, as if they were glaring at you with contempt. He started looking through them more quickly, avoiding their haunting stares.  
He was not the only one disturbed by these sketches. Otto shuddered, for many of these creatures, with their large, beetle-like eyes and fanged mouths, were in nightmares of his. He put them away, until a particularly nasty drawing of what appeared to be a female vampire biting who was once her lover fell aside, revealing a normal, happy drawing of a man in his mid- twenties with a long, lanky frame and messy hair, with rectangular glasses. He stared at it for a second, then grimaced, for something about this drawing was far more frightening than the others. Somewhere, this man had been familiar..  
He motioned to the others. "Hey guys, look at this.." The two took the drawing, examining closely what appeared to be a man staring in space with a lovesick girl in the background. Her features were hard to identify.  
  
Larry murmured. "That's odd. It's normal."  
"What's odd about that then, genius?"  
"Have you looked at these drawings, you idiotic brain-dead ape? This Zelada is an artist who does not draw things like this. Hmm..This man isn't looking straight into space, like many of the others. He's staring at an angle.."  
Otto shook his head, stuffing the sketch hastily into the desk again. "I don't care. I just want to see this person and get out of her."  
Tuddrussel opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a dark figure in the doorway and a powerful, harsh voice broke through the little study.  
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" 


End file.
